15. Paris

My first morning in Nemeda, I'd been too nervous to stay in bed. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do while here. Yes, yes, I ought to pursue a treaty, but I knew better than to think that was all it would take to get me back to Urial.

It needed to be the very best treaty a diplomat had ever set before King Albany. I needed to dash all his doubts about me and offer him something perfect. Too bad I had no inkling about what would please him so thoroughly, particularly from what Nemeda had to offer, but the last thing I wanted was to get home, find out I hadn't done enough, and end up even farther from everything I loved than this.

In truth, King Albany had wanted me gone more than he'd wanted anything else. What could I negotiate here that would please him more than that?

At least the Nemedans seemedreasonable. They were strange, but there was a patient kindness to it, a presumption that everyone would do their best.

Of course, I might be looking at it too rosily. There was still a man who'd wanted me to kill Chief Brett. It was entirely possible that I was simply charmed by the man himself. It wasn't like his home had the splendor of King Albany's castle.

The point was, even without the pomp and splendor that I was used to, I didn't mind staying with the Hawk Clan.

Over breakfast the morning after I arrived, Brett said first thing, he was seeing to the needs of his people and that I wasn't required. He'd find me in the afternoon, and we could tour the village.

He didn't say—not explicitly, anyway—that I wasn't welcome to join him that morning, but that was the impression I got, so I spent the morning with Rosaline, watching her tend to the chickens.

One rushed me, and I almost jumped out of my boots, but Rosaline laughed sweetly and introduced me to them. They were cute, really, when they weren't flapping and squawking like they meant to flay you.

In Urial, the animals had to be particularly hardy and frosts were too unpredictable to grow much. We had apples and root vegetables and thick, dark greens, but not the plenty and diversity of Nemeda.

Honestly, everything that came out of Rosaline's kitchen was incredible. By lunchtime, she'd agreed to teach me how to cook. After we ate, Brett took me around the village to give me an idea of who his people were and what they did. While we walked, he told me about the other clans.

It turned out that the Hawk Clan didn't grow everything for all of Nemeda, no matter how their broad, sweeping fields of golden wheat made it seem like they might. The oranges came from the Duck Clan, though sometimes, the Hawk grew other fruits in the spring and summer.

Winter was the only season he didn't have much to say about. Whenever I brought it up, he gave me a haunted look, his brow furrowed. He truly seemed to hate the cold.

In Urial, we didn't have that luxury.

When the seasons turned, the carriage masters changed out the wheels on our sturdy wagons for runners that skirted over the snow. The Nemedans didn't seem to like the winter, but how terribly inconvenient it must be, to shut down the whole country for a season. Proper sleighs could keep trade and commerce running year-round, and our engineers were rather clever with the detachable parts.

Brett's reticence to admit that there was an outdoors during the colder months of the year, much less explore it, made me think that there was at least one gap in Nemeda's plenty where I might have something to offer. We were well used to the cold.

Days stretched on like that, and while I'd hardly managed to make any progress toward a treaty, I didn't mind Nemeda so much. It was nice to walk around somewhere the weather was temperate, with people who seemed genuinely happy and engaged when we spoke to them. Well, when Brett spoke to them. He did most of the talking. The people seemed uneasy around me.

And Brett himself? He was... attentive. Not uncomfortably so, and I suspected his awareness came from simply having a stranger invading his home, but he was kind and quick to offer help. His voice was low and quiet, and I hadn't heard him shout even once.

Then, when the letter carriers were due to arrive, he made sure I knew well ahead of time.

I'd written to Hector and Helena and Prince Tybalt, as well as a handful of friends who I missed more than I'd realized I would. In the evenings, I had plenty of time to write, and it was more pleasant than reading.

That was... well, it was because Clio's diary was rather unpleasant. She had hated everything about the Hawk Clan, every piece that I'd found so charming. Reading her sharp words made me feel foolish, for being taken in by the agrarian romanticism of it all. Then, when I realized what a terrible way of looking at the world she had, I felt dirty for thinking, for even a moment, that she might be right. I'd had similar doubts about all the Nemedans before coming, but Rosaline was as fine a lady as any in Urial, and she did quite a lot more than most of them.

As I settled into my new life, I pushed the dead woman's diary from my mind, returned it to the shadows, and wrote a stack of letters thinking that Helena wouldn't be too terribly upset at receiving more than one at a time.

And finally, finally, it was time for the courier's return.

I waited all day, peering out the window while Rosaline grinned broadly at me.

"You Urials get so useless when you're expecting something, don't you?"

I laughed. "Just me, I think. My brother and sister never slow down for anything."

"Whatever you're waiting for must be worth it then."

I swallowed.

I really hoped so. I couldn't wait to hear from—from everyone. But I'd be lying to say I wasn't most excited to hear from Prince Tybalt.

I was... worried. I'd left so promptly. Surely he was upset, and the last thing I wanted was to make him feel abandoned, especially after mourning my father had taken me from his side for weeks preceding my departure.

The courier arrived, and I rushed out the front door and took the letters for the whole house. There were some for Brett and Rosaline, and then?—

Thank the gods, there was a stack for me, and my heart swelled with joy. These past days, I'd worried my home had forgotten me, moved on as if I'd never been there at all.

There was a thick envelope from Helena and one from Hector. I didn't expect him to write as much, both because of how busy he stayed and also because he was not the most loquacious person.

Each friend I had written to had written me back.

And then?—

Oh.

That was all. I'd gotten a stack of letters, but none from Tybalt.

"Excuse me."

The courier paused, his head tilted curiously. "Yes?"

"Are you sure that this is all? There wasn't another letter, perhaps one tucked away somewhere else. It might've had a seal on it that looked, well, important."

The man scowled, but he looked through his bags and came back with nothing. "I'm sure that's all of it. Were you waiting for something in particular?"

"Oh, um—" I blinked fast, and caught myself before my smile faded. I'd gotten so many letters, and perhaps—perhaps the prince was busy. "No, no. Thank you so much."

To be safe, to be sure, I looked through the stack of letters again as I carried them back inside, but there was nothing from Prince Tybalt hiding among them. Cold tickled my toes in my boots, spread up from my fingers, and I sighed.